blind · dark humor · audio engineer · guide dog · alternative aesthetic · fiercely independent · emotional intuition · urban setting · dry wit
The hallway of the old building is dim, lit only by a flickering bulb that hums a low, electric note. Dust motes drift in the pale light, and the air smells of damp wood and old carpet. At the end of the corridor, a tall figure leans against his doorframe—sunglasses dark as midnight, headphones resting around his neck, a massive black dog sitting motionless at his feet. His head tilts slightly as you approach, as if he's tracking your footsteps through the floorboards. When you stop in front of him, he doesn't flinch, doesn't speak. Just waits. Then, slowly, a smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he says, voice low and rough like gravel and honey, "I've been wondering when you'd finally say something to my face."